Zeppelin
by Arquellania
Summary: She makes him happier than when he hears Zeppelin on the radio. But Zeppelin is never on the radio anymore. Angsty Jackie/Hyde one-shot.


**Zeppelin**

**Summary:** 1985 is coming. Jackie and Hyde haven't been together for years. Jackie's departing to Chicago, and she has some things to say.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own That '70s Show.

--

She makes him happier than when he hears Zeppelin on the radio. And while they are some pure rarity that was never expected, never dreamed of, he cherishes it for what it is.

But Zeppelin is never on the radio anymore.

And although it's been years since they've been together, they're the last two people in the circle that still inhabit Point Place. The seventies are long gone, and his beloved practices have been replaced by the uncleanly ones of the eighties.

New Year's Eve has come yet again. He turns on the television and rots on the couch. New years are not exciting. They make him more reminiscent of a different day and age.

He was happier once upon a time.

--

She tramples through the door, taking her bags in. She's all packed for Chicago; she'll be gone once the New Year rings in. She doesn't take off her jacket.

She smiles a bit then takes it away. They're civil to each other, but their conversations are not pleasing. They can go for a week without one word to each other. They are all each other has, and that makes it much worse.

The Price is Right is on. She plops on the couch and fiddles with the plastic ring on her finger.

He examines her. Her clothes have gotten brighter as the decade moves by; she has never gone so far as to wear spandex but neon is something she has dared to try. He doesn't really care, but knowing that she's changed so much, it kills him.

She looks older, more refined, but her personality is a bit more toned down. She hasn't been sufficiently happy since she was a teenager. She doesn't smile much; her mouth is either formed into a thin line or in a frown.

He'd think she'd be happy in her successes; she's the local news anchor and she's recently got a promotion. But he's realized over the years that she has no one to share it with. And therefore, all of it is worth nothing.

A year ago he found her crumbled on her bathroom floor, her mascara running and her hair tangled in a mess. He sat down next to her and ran his hand down her arm until she moaned quietly. He lifted her sleeve and saw the bruises.

The bruises she had gotten. She had just been looking for someone to be with. Someone who would make her happy. The fact that she had gone so far to find it only proved that she was crying out for help. She was crying out for someone.

He just held her that day. He kissed her cheeks endlessly. Her tears tasted like bitter regret. There was no going back now; she had changed and so had he. If they had changed for the worse, he didn't know.

He didn't ask what happened, or how it happened; he just stayed with her until the morning. Then she almost pleaded with him to go. Even though he had seen her in far worse situations, she didn't want him to see her like this. She had hit the bottom, but she was determined to keep on covering it up.

She hadn't dived into any of the new drugs or drinking, but he could sometimes spot her in the alleyway taking long drags on a joint.

Even he had laid off a bit on the smoking. He indulged himself every few months or so with a few beers, but he has gotten too serious for his old self. He wishes he could be more laidback, but he's always looking behind his shoulders. He's watching her. He's not letting her break down, even though she desperately wants to.

She stops by the record store every once in a while, and listens to Styx just to irk him. A smile tugs at her face when she messes with him, but it quickly disappears when she realizes how different things are. He doesn't laugh anymore and neither does she.

He's stayed away from the music scene. Donna's long gone; the radio station is a heroin and cocaine party. And, of course, vodka, because the fact that John Bonham died choking on his own vomit is "fucking awesome" to them. He spits venom on the music scene. The record store is like a damn church compared to what he sees now.

Maybe he's bitter. He hasn't had his dose of Zeppelin in years.

--

It's nearing eleven thirty now. Time is unbearably slow.

She's getting more anxious. She's ready to leave Point Place, for it has given her so much pain that it is unbearable to stay in. Whether he's part of the problem, he doesn't know. He's not sure if he wants to know.

Eleven forty-five now. Jackie's heels are tapping on the floor. Her lips are puckered and her hair is tousled to the left. He wishes that she would just look at him. He misses the feeling of her plump lips, his fingers through her hair, her gorgeous blue eyes staring him down. God, he doesn't even know how it feels anymore. He doesn't remember what it's like to have her, hold her, and tell her the things she wants to hear. He wants it so bad, but in this alternate universe far away from where they used to be, it's never going to happen.

Her eyelashes flutter endlessly. Her skin is pale, gorgeous. He wants to touch her, remind her of how much of a goddess she is. Her breath is slow; it makes music.

It reminds him of the endless nights when he just watched her sleep, her eyes closed tightly and her breaths even and slow. He would snake his arm around her waist as she stirred. Once she relaxed, he would stare at her until the sun would come up and then he would fall into a slumber. She would be gone by the time he woke, but he would always pick up the scent of lavender and vanilla.

He knew the old Jackie well, but the one sitting next to him was a complete stranger. She still had the intense beauty of the girl before her, but she was much quieter. This Jackie didn't love anymore, didn't have _Jackie + Hyde Forever_ scribbled in her notebook. No, this Jackie didn't have a love. She was desperate to find someone to love, but no one was there.

He wouldn't hold out his hand for this Jackie to hold. This wasn't his Jackie. That Jackie was long gone; too much had happened to her and she disappeared. Was she inside this Jackie? Was she waiting to be happy again? Or would she never come to the surface again, leaving this Jackie to fend for herself?

Five minutes until midnight.

He might never see her again. She's going out into a different world. She's going towards success, everything she's ever wanted, and he's here, wasting space. Neither of them is happy with what they have. He doesn't know what would have happened if they had survived everything and stayed together. Would they be happy? He has a lot of questions that he just can't answer.

She's getting ready to go, assembling her bags and getting up from the couch.

She turns to him, her eyes finally meeting his. "Hey."

"Yeah?" He stands up and helps her with her bags.

"Thank you." She says quietly. Her eyes look as innocent as a five-year-old's.

He doesn't understand.

"For staying." She hoists a bag on her shoulder. "It meant a lot to me."

He nods, taking it in.

"_Everyone leaves, Steven,"_ She once told him. _"It's only a matter of time."_

Truer words have never been spoken.

This might be their final goodbye. He has to take the chance.

He embraces her, his hand touching the small of her back. She holds onto him until the New Year bell sounds.

He hears the yells of, "1985!" coming from outside.

She's trying not to cry as they break apart. She has to go.

She brushes at her eyes and then does the unthinkable. She reaches out to clean up his face.

He didn't know he was crying. There's a certain numbness surrounding him. He doesn't know how to feel anymore.

She caresses his cheek, then pulls away and heads toward the door. He follows with the rest of her bags.

Her car is sitting outside. The harsh winter air hits him like a truck. He doesn't have a jacket on.

Her sad eyes turn to him once more after her bags are loaded into the truck. She desperately wants to say something, but she's too scared to say it. She starts to walk to the car door. He opens it for her.

She turns the keys into the ignition.

"Jackie." He says her name one last time.

She looks up.

"Take care of yourself."

She nods. "You too."

He closes the door and watches her drive off into the darkness. He can't see clearly anymore.

He just stands there on the driveway. He wanted to say so many things for her. A part of him is waiting for her to come back, but he knows that she isn't going to.

He sticks his hands into his pockets. He doesn't know when it got so complicated. He doesn't know when he lost hope. He doesn't know when he lost her.

He turns around and goes back inside alone, a part of him left with the girl in the car.

She was his last piece of joy. She was his last piece of music.

"_True love always finds its way."_ Her voice cuts through his mind again.

God, he really needs some Zeppelin right now.

--

She's speeding away from her home, her hair moving with the wind from the windows.

She left everything she's ever wanted on that driveway. The cold air hits her like a knife.

She closes the window and removes her jacket to reveal a tattered Zeppelin t-shirt with the initials _S.H._ written on the sleeve.

--

**Author's Note:** Well, I just watched Season 8 again. This is all my bitter feelings about Season 8 put into a one-shot! I'm kidding. Well, mostly.

If you picked up Hyde's comparison of Zeppelin to Jackie, then you're pretty smart. XD

Well, Zeppelin had a reunion in 1985…So I might continue this…Maybe.

Review! I know I usually write Chuck and Blair fics, but my Zen love is shining through today! Thanks, Cass


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